Small And Needy Things
by Skylarcat
Summary: She is small and needy, and he is everything that feels like home, and everything she doesn't deserve.


**Title:** Small And Needy Things  
**Author:** Skylarcat  
**Classification:** One shot. Angie Flynn, Oscar Vega. Song Lyric Fic  
**Rating**: PG 13  
**Feedback:** Please  
**Summary:** A summary of season two of Motive. Angie's POV. The lyrics are from a song called, "Breathe Me" by Sia. It makes me think of Angie this season. The finale broke my heart, and it feels like crickets around here, probably because everyone is trying to cope with how the show closed. Next season feels like a lifetime away.  
**Note:** Flynn and Vega are characters that do not belong to me. Yes, I have used them without permission. However, no copyright infringement is intended. And I will return them intact and a lot more satisfied.

**Help, I have done it again.  
I have been here many times before.  
Hurt myself again today.  
And the worst part is there's no one left to blame.**

She sits across from her partner, taking another shot of bourbon, in a poorly lit pub. It burns her throat as it goes down and she grimaces. She realizes that it's getting late, only a few people remain, closing time is rapidly approaching. Regardless, he remains with her, taking shot after shot, and she tries to ignore that fact that she has led him here under false pretense.

Something weighs on her, an anchor that brings her down, a lie that she hasn't yet confessed to. She knows he has noticed her recent change in behavior, quietly regarding her, but never pushing her to open up. She respects him even more for that. They have been partners for five years now; on some levels, he knows her better than she knows herself, so of course he would notice that something was bothering her. She imagines that his respect is something that is not freely given, but earned, which is why she is afraid to tell him this, afraid to see the disappointment in his eyes.

She has noticed the wedge growing between them ever since Mark Cross entered the picture. What began as a sliver has expanded into a great hole, and it swallows her, making her flounder in her one misstep. And even though she tried to close that gap by allowing Vega to read the file on Cross and her, it still wasn't the truth, which is why they were currently sitting there, taking shots of bourbon, because she wasn't quite drunk enough to confess.

He watches her from across the table, his eyes dark and thoughtful. She has already revealed that her problem isn't with Samantha, but with her testimony, but he doesn't push her to continue, instead he waits for her to tell him the rest, how much or how little is of her own choice and in her own time. She loves him so completely in that moment.

She rubs her hand beneath her jaw, contemplating her next choice of words; she knows what she is about to reveal could change everything between them, and it terrifies her, makes her stomach churn, and she regrets the many shots of bourbon.

"I lied to the judiciary committee," she says, and flinches at the sound of her own words. She watches as the realization of what she just confessed translates across his face. He's quiet for a moment; his smile fading from his lips, and she gestures to the waiter, pretending like her admission wasn't a big deal, that it doesn't weigh on her. "Could we get another round?"

"Angie," he says, knowing that this isn't easy for her.

"Yeah," she turns to face him, expecting a reprimand for lying, for knowing better, but what she finds is compassion. And she wonders how she got so lucky to have him in her life.

"I'm here for you; you know that, if you should need me," he says, his hand reaching across the table for hers.

She closes her eyes, allowing his words to fill her. "I do know that, you're a good man," but he is more than that, though she won't admit it aloud; he's a good partner, a good friend; the kind of man she never believed existed, but always wanted, but didn't think she deserved.

**Be my friend  
Hold me, wrap me up  
Unfold me**

The day is drawing to a close, as she approaches the elevator, about to head out, when Samantha stops her. She feels the exhaustion throughout her body, this is the last thing she needs right now.

"I need to know I can count on your character testimony," Samantha says.

She bows her head, staring at the floor. She wonders how she got here, at how she allowed Mark to convince her to lie in the first place, at how she is tired of living the lie. She knows if the truth were to come out, it could ruin not only her career, but Mark's as well. But she refuses to sit on the stand and cover for him any longer. She knows she has to give Samantha an answer; it might as well be now.

"I'm sorry, Samantha, you can't." There's a hint of sadness in her voice, a level of fatigue from lying, from keeping this façade intact, and she knows she can't do it anymore.

Samantha appears genially surprised. "I don't understand. Why not?"

Of course she wouldn't understand. Angie closes her eyes, weariness creeping across her soft features. She knows Samantha is sleeping with Mark, knows he's keeping up the lie, so she won't call him out. "Have to ask Mark that question." She steps inside the elevator, staring up at the ceiling, leaving Samantha standing there, wondering why.

**I am small and needy  
Warm me up  
And breathe me**

She lowers her gun, knowing the decision could result with her life, but too many people have already been hurt, she doesn't want to see anymore carnage. She's alone, except for Doug Slater, who points his gun directly at her.

In the moment, her hearts races, she can feel each beat. Her hands are sweaty, her mind drawling to a crawl. She has made so many mistakes, done so many things wrong, and she won't let this be one of them.

Doug lifts his gun, aiming it directly at her face, she catches her breath, her eyes closing as she hears it fire, but when she opens her eyes, it's not Doug who has fired, but Vega. She feels her legs start to buckle as she stares down at Doug's body on the floor. Her partner has saved her life.

"You okay," he asks; worry written on his face.

She stands still, pondering what exactly just happened, and what she was thinking. She looks up, catching Vega looking at her with uncertainty; his dark eyes filled with empathy.

"You alright," he repeats, stepping closer to her.

"Yeah," she says, finally finding her voice. Her voice is shaky and she doesn't believe her own words and neither does he.

"Hey, Angie," he says. "It's over."

"Thank you," she manages, placing her hand against his shoulder. As soon as her fingers fold in his coat, she breaks, all her emotions bottling over. She falls into him, the tears rushing to her eyes.

He clings tightly onto her, breathing into her hair. "It's over," he tells her and she believes him. If only she could remain in his arms forever.

**Ouch, I have lost myself again.  
Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found.  
Yeah, I think that I might break.  
I've lost myself again and I feel unsafe.**

She sits at her desk, in the dark, a bottle of booze in front of her, when he finds her. She sent him a text, asking to see him, and of course he comes, regardless of the late hour. He would always have her back. He pours himself a glass and takes a seat at his desk, staring at her carefully.

She smiles bitter-sweetly. "You've been a good partner," she tells him and she means it. He has had her back more times than she can count and he deserves better than her.

"In my moments. You, too." He says; giving her a grin, but it quickly disappears when he notes her seriousness. "You okay?"

She catches her breath and leans her head back against her chair. She has been over thinking, over analyzing all her faults, and now she feels completely raw. "I put you in a bad situation, Vega. You knew I lied. You covered for me, like I covered for Mark." She motions with her hands, tears swelling behind her eyes. "I'm a mess. I'm always going to be a mess. I don't want to ask you to clean up my messes. I can't do that."

His face expression breaks her heart into a million pieces, he appears wounded, and instantly guilt and remorse fills her, but she can't destroy him like she has herself. It's a decision she has to make, she has to save him, or she will ruin him like everything else in her life.

"Well, how do we move forward," he asks, not willing to accept defeat. He would never walk away from her willingly, so she knows she has to make this hurt.

"I don't think I can, Vega," she answers, but it's her own self that hurts, that shatters into a million pieces. She is small and needy, and he is everything that feels like home, and everything she doesn't deserve.


End file.
